


Back Then

by meminisse_iuvabit



Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Genre: Aaron Shore: resident White House drama queen, F/M, Introspection, Oneshot, Pining, stupid pointless angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 22:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meminisse_iuvabit/pseuds/meminisse_iuvabit
Summary: Aaron should be doing his actual job instead of stewing in regret, but that's never stopped him before.





	Back Then

**Author's Note:**

> Set between the S1 finale and the S2 premiere.

It was dull Tuesday in late November, clouds in the sky and a bite in the air. Hell of a day for Emily to wear pink.

Before, back when the Capitol attack was still fresh, giving a sharp edge of desperation to every flirtation, back when they still talked like friends and looked at each other like lovers, he would have teased her about it. 

_Barbie doll. Disney princess. Maraschino cherry._

He wanted to fling insults at her like the old days, see her blush, then bristle and hit back. Or better still, to give him that knowing look of hers, the one that sank right into his bones and lodged there. 

Aaron tried not to look at her, tried to pay attention to Seth’s presser – he was fielding Patrick Lloyd questions like a champ, and Aaron felt vaguely guilty for not giving him more to work with. And for shutting him out. The price of not pursuing Emily had been steeper than he’d imagined – distancing himself from her meant distancing himself from Seth as well.

Back in those good old ‘before’ times, they’d have butted heads once the press had cleared out. Seth would have demanded to know why Aaron only ever gave him vague non-reports and Aaron would have made some nasty wisecrack about security clearance only being for people who did real work around here, and then Emily would have waded in and – damn, it always did come back to her.

His eyes followed his thoughts and sought her out – a burst of neon-cherry in the middle of all those sombre black and grey suits, a tropical bird rubbing shoulders with crows. Back then, the only thing better than trading verbal blows with her had been shocking her with a sudden compliment. Sometimes, she’d do something and almost dare him to comment, eat something glazed and battered and horrifically sweet, or make outrageously altruistic, apolitical gesture, and give him a look so laden with challenge that his hair almost stood on end.

Then, perversely, he’d back down just when she was spoiling for a fight, and tell her that she’d earned that sugary treat, or that he admired her idealism. He was pretty sure that annoyed her far more than any amount of snide remarks, because she was never sure whether he was being patronising or genuine. To be fair, he hadn’t always been sure himself, until the end.

 _The end._ It suddenly struck him that he was being ridiculous and he glanced down to hide his smile. Aaron Shore, National Security Advisor and resident White House drama queen. He blamed Emily Rhodes and her stupid pink dresses, making him itch to change his mind.

He’d agonised about the choice to leave her alone, to let the gap that had opened between them widen into a gulf. Not at first, of course – when he’d first resigned, the sting of her distrust had been so bitter that he’d almost convinced himself he was better off without her. No, that endless wavering between head and heart had come later, after he’d rejoined the West Wing and found himself right back at square one: Emily, day in, day out, always brilliant, always beautiful, always hot and cold, always tempting. 

Head – he was finally back where he wanted to be, with the President, with his friends, serving his country, making a difference. Could he really risk that for a relationship with a woman who didn’t even trust him?

Heart – Emily.

Head – even if she did still care about him, how could they keep things professional? In those early days, his attraction to her had nearly bowled him over. If he went down this road, if he kept indulging in those feelings, he would get distracted. He would screw up at some crucial moment – maybe even when lives were at stake. No, couldn't risk it.

Heart – _Emily._

Head – it was more than just his career on the line. A woman in a position of power had it hard, even in a sympathetic administration like Kirkman’s. He would only make an already challenging job more difficult for her, open her up to criticism, to sneering suspicion, accusations of nepotism. And sooner or later, one or both of them would have to choose between a relationship and the job, and he knew exactly how that would go. Then he wouldn’t even get to be her friend. It was better this way.

Heart – Emily. Emily. _Emily._

The press conference finished. The reporters shuffled off, taking their grumbling and perpetual expressions of discontent with them, and the staffers retreated to the haven of the West Wing. _Foxes back to our dens,_ thought Aaron, and laughed at himself again. 

“Good job in there,” he said to Seth. 

“Thanks, man.” 

Seth sounded the same as ever – friendly, easy, dismissive, perfunctory. The same voice he used for talking to journos. Of course, at least they actually talked. Emily breezed past him on her way to the Oval, barely stopping to nod. He hadn’t had a conversation with her about anything other work in how long? Three weeks? Four? And before that? Longer again. But he had made his choice, for crying out loud. He couldn’t go back now even if he wanted to, and it was time to man up and accept that.

Aaron squared his shoulders and strode through the corridors of the White House like he owned the place. He was back where he belonged and that was what mattered.


End file.
